


Sexsomnia

by BiffElderberry



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Manipulation, Sexsomnia, Sleep Sex, Sleepwalking, Withdrawn Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiffElderberry/pseuds/BiffElderberry
Summary: Sometimes you need a killer to catch a killer.This is how Dr. Martin Whitley got released into police custody.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Martin Whitly
Comments: 2
Kudos: 190
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	Sexsomnia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/gifts).



No one liked the idea. Not Malcolm, not Gil, not Gil's bosses, not even the Judge that signed off on it thought it was a good idea. But it was the only idea they had. After all the killings were getting more frequent and more gruesome, and Martin had been helpful, had seemed to genuinely want to help. But there was little he could do locked away in his cell. 

Sometimes you need a killer to catch a killer. 

This is how Dr. Martin Whitley got released into police custody.

They took every precaution they could. Extra guards, keeping him handcuffed at every turn, everyone on constant vigilance. But Malcolm still wasn't sure it was enough. After all, his father was always up to something. 

Which is why Malcolm kept a constant eye on him. He was at his side at all times, just out of reach, but close enough to stop him should Martin make one false move. He didn't even sleep. 

At first, he relied on coffee. It kept him going for the first day, but soon enough it proved ineffective. Which was when Malcolm turned to messing with his medication. He changed the doses just enough to trigger insomnia. It was easy enough to do. After all, he had been on them most of his life. He knew how to trigger every side effect in the book by now. 

Malcolm lasted for five days. 

"Malcolm, my boy? Are you still with me?" Martin called looking over at his son. They were back in his temporary cell. Martin was chained to the wall, and Malcolm was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room. It was depressingly like Martin's every day, only the cell wasn't as comfortable as his one back at Clairemont. Still, it had been excited to help his son, to bond with him. 

Martin had been halfway through his musings on the case, trying to process through the killer's frame of mind when he noticed Malcolm's head drooping, his eyes closed. It was really the snore that cinched it though. 

He continued his musing softly to himself, so as to not wake Malcolm. 

After all, this is what he had been waiting for. Martin knew just as well as Malcolm what the side effects of him messing with his medicine were, perhaps knew them even better. It was in his best interest to let Malcolm sleep, for now. 

All too soon Malcolm stirred. Martin stopped his rambling watching as his son blinked, eyes open and yet unseeing. He watched as Malcolm slowly stood, his body moving jerkily. 

"Malcolm," Martin said softly, eyes narrowed as he watched him. Sure enough, Malcolm was still asleep, his body just hadn't realized it.

"Do you know where the keys to these handcuffs are?" Martin asked. 

Malcolm paused, slowly nodding. Even as a child Malcolm had been heavily suggestible when he slept walk. It was part of how Martin had gotten away with everything he had for so long, especially after Malcolm had started to catch on. He could just chloroform him and wait until Malcolm's body woke up. Then he could edit the boy's memories. 

He supposed it hadn't been the best practice, but really it was for the boy's own good.

"Will you bring them to me?" Martin asked, keeping his voice soft and melodic. The last thing he wanted to do was wake his son up. After all, there wasn't much more he could do to stall the case any longer. Soon they could catch the pathetic excuse for a serial killer they were hunting, and Martin would be sent back to Clairemont. 

Malcolm nodded again, disappearing out the door. 

Martin didn't have to wait long for Malcolm to return keys in hand. Malcolm walked over the line taped on the floor with confidence, every move growing more and more sure as he went. 

"Very good," Martin assured him, shifting up to sitting on his bed. He held his manacled wrists up. "Now if you could just unlock-"

He cut off as Malcolm climbed onto the bed with him. It wasn't a very big bed, more of a cot than anything else. Malcolm was practically straddling him and wasn't that an interesting turn of events. Martin settled back, hands still upraised, but with less urgency. 

Malcolm was heavy in his lap. He was so focused on trying to get the key into the lock, a difficult task when actually asleep, that he didn't seem to notice that the way he sat was just enough pressure to rub his groin against Martin's cock. But Martin noticed. 

There was plenty of time to escape later, he realized. For now, he thought he would just enjoy this moment here.

It was subtle, after all too anything too aggressive would wake Malcolm, but Martin slowly ground his hips up, pressing himself harder against his son. Malcolm's breath hitched and Martin froze.

But Malcolm didn't wake up. He just continued fussing with the lock. 

Martin repeated the movement - a slow tantalizing rub of his cock head against his son. Even though the fabric of their clothes he could feel Malcolm's cock hardening. Malcolm was moving more frantically now, his hands practically shaking as he tried to unlock the cuffs. 

Finally, with a click, the cuffs fell open. Martin tossed them to the side, not caring where they landed. After all, there was something much more interesting in developing here. 

Martin held Malcolm's gaze as he ground against him again, this time his hands-on Malcolm's hips, holding him steady. But this time he wasn't the only one moving. Malcolm ground down, meeting his thrust. 

Malcolm groaned above him. He was already hard, his cock bulging his trousers. It had obviously been a long time since he had gotten laid, Martin decided, and what kind of father would he be if he couldn't help his son out? 

Fortunately, Malcolm's unconscious brain seemed to be on board with this idea, as Martin started to undress him. Malcolm moved, albeit uncoordinated as Martin unzipped his trousers, and unbuttoned Malcolm's shirt. So what if he ripped a few buttons off. He would find them later - they could be his souvenirs in away. 

He thought Malcolm was waking up as he worked two spit slicked fingers into Malcolm's ass. His son was making little mewling groans above him, his hips stuttering, thrusting back against Martin's hand, and then forward into his hips. But his eyes remained unfocused, his movements uncoordinated. 

It was really fascinated. From a medical perspective, Martin almost wanted to study the phenomenon. Perhaps when he completed his escape he could start over somewhere and run a few tests. He was sure given some experimentation he could trigger a sleepwalking state.

Finally, Martin got Malcolm positioned above him, his cock pressed against his entrance. Slowly he thrust up, pushing his cock into his son's body.

Malcolm whimpered as Martin pressed in. 

"Shhh," Martin soothed, cupping a hand to Malcolm's face. "I've got you," he assured him, as he slowly let Malcolm sink onto his cock. 

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Martin said, more of a statement than a question. 

Malcolm nodded, biting his lip. His hips stuttered, slowly fucking himself up and down on his father's cock. 

Martin groaned, hands gripping Malcolm's hips. He was so tight, his hole gripping his cock was so perfect. Malcolm was so perfect, Martin had always known it. 

He slid his hand down to Malcolm's cock, gripping it tightly. Malcolm's hip thrust faster, fucking up into Martin's hand. 

It was all over in an instant. Malcolm stilled, his breath hitching in his throat. Martin could feel his body tighten, clenching around him like a vice. Malcolm's come spilled into his hand, his son's orgasm washing over him. And then suddenly he slumped forward. His eyes fell closed before fluttering open, a look of terror on his face. 

\----

Terror gripped Malcolm as he startled awake. He blinked, taking in his surroundings - he was in his father's cell, across the line. Martin was below him, his handcuff's off, his cock-

"No!" Malcolm gasped, scrambling backward, off his father's lap. 

He tried to get off the bed, but Martin was faster. Martin grabbed him, dragging Malcolm back into bed with him. Malcolm ended up facedown on the bed, his father's arm pressed down between his shoulder blades holding him there.

"We were having such a lovely time," Martin said. Malcolm tried to push himself back up, to get away as Martin lined his cock up and thrust back in. "And you had to go and ruin it." 

Malcolm gasped as his father's cock entered him. He wanted to escape, to at least fight back, but he had never been able to against his father. Slowly he relaxed, just letting his father take him. At least this way someone would have him.

And that was the crux of it, really. Martin had done so well fucking up his life, that Malcolm couldn't even pretend to do normally.

"See, I knew you would like this," Martin chuckled, releasing the pressure holding Malcolm down. "Just like when you were younger." 

Malcolm whimpered, his body still over-sensitive from his orgasm. His toes curled on each thrust, as his body tightened. It was too much, and yet not enough. 

But more pressing, Martin was free, and Malcolm had to do something about it. Sure, Martin was preoccupied, but soon enough he could come, and what could Malcolm do to keep him from walking out of there? He couldn't tell anyone, after all, they would know that he had been the one who unlocked him. 

There was a clinking of metal sliding against metal as the bed rocked. Malcolm looked down and saw the handcuffs that had once held Martin curled up on the bed below him. Slowly a plan formed in his mind. 

Soon enough Martin stilled with a grunt. Malcolm could feel his cock twitching inside of him, as Martin stilled. 

It was over in an instant. While Martin was distracted Malcolm rolled to the side, barely slipping out from under his father as he went. He turned, latching the handcuffs on first one wrist, and then the other.

Martin snarled as his wrists were ensnared. He tried to grab for the key, still laying on top of the sheets but Malcolm was faster this time. 

Malcolm rolled out of the bed, grabbing his clothes as fast as he could as he scampered back across the line. 

"Malcolm!" Martin barked, "Unlock these this instant!" 

"No," Malcolm replied, hastily dressing. "I'm not going to be the reason you escape." He fixed his clothes as best he could before turning and walking out the door. Someone else could watch Martin for a minute. He needed another damn cup of coffee. 


End file.
